


Phoenix I thru VII

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 11:04:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: After the evil Cancerman torches the X-Files, an unexpected visitor appears at Mulder's apartment.





	Phoenix I thru VII

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Phoenix I By Lucy Snowe

Title: Phoenix  
Author: Lucy Snowe  
E-mail address:   
Distribution: Anywhere, but please send me an email and let me know where it's going. I've already sent it to Archive-X  
Spoiler warning: The End  
Rating: NC-17  
Classification: S,A  
Keywords: Slash M/K   
Summary: After the evil Cancerman torches the X-Files, an unexpected visitor appears at Mulder's apartment.   
Disclaimers: The characters of Mulder and Krycek certainly aren't mine. No infringement intended, no money made. Please don't sue unless you wish to assume responsibility for my student loans.  
Author's Note: This is my first fanfic submission, so any feedback would be received with immense gratitude and pleasure. This also is unbeta'd, and if anyone would like to volunteer to beta future attempts, I would be positively giddy with joy. Please respond to ""

* * *

Phoenix  
By Lucy Snowe

Mulder entered his apartment in a dazed stupor and shut the door behind him, unable to summon the energy to lock it. He stumbled to the couch and collapsed bonelessly, throwing one arm over his head to stare with sightless eyes at the ceiling. The faint acrid tang of smoke accompanied each indrawn breath, a monotonous reminder of failure and hopelessness. Mulder stubbornly refused to let his mind grasp the recent events, concentrating instead on the blanketing numbness that shielded him from any thoughts or emotions. 

He didn't know how long he laid frozen in that position -- it could've been minutes or hours since Scully had led him away from the burnt wreckage of their office and driven him home. He couldn't bring himself to accept the comfort she offered at the office -- he felt frozen, distant. They had sat in her car in silence for a few minutes before he could summon the energy to get out. She laid her hand on his, but stared fixedly through the windshield -- her touch a tacit acknowledgement of her support and their bond. Mulder reached over and trailed his hand down the side of the face. Her eyes locked on his and mirrored his expression of numb shock and incipient pain. He closed his eyes as a short stab of despair momentarily interrupted his numbness, then left the car to trudge across the street to his apartment.

He felt as if he was stapled to his couch and wondered vaguely if he could simply remain there until his body atrophied into an emptiness in concert with his mind. This thought was interrupted by a faint rattle followed by the whine of un-oiled hinges as his door slowly opened. He looked at the doorway and watched with disinterest as Alex Krycek entered the room. Reflexively, he glanced at the gun lying next to him at the table, gave an almost imperceptible shrug and resumed his study of the ceiling. Krycek closed the door behind him, then paused to stare at Mulder, taken aback by the uncharacteristic lack of response to his presence. Moments passed and as Mulder continued to ignore him, Krycek moved to the couch crouching beside him.

"Mulder, I heard what they did."

The soft and oddly sympathetic statement sparked Mulder's attention and he turned his head to the other man. "How?"

"I have my sources," Krycek replied with a wry smile, recognizing what Mulder was assuming, "but I didn't know about it before hand -- I wasn't involved."

Mulder grunted noncommittally and turned his head away. "It doesn't matter."

Disturbed by Mulder's flat tone, Krycek leaned forward urgently, "It *does* matter, damnit. I told you this was a war -- and the stakes are only increasing. The fact that they attacked you like this only confirms how close you are, how much of a threat you've become. Mulder, you can't give up."

Mulder closed his eyes and repeated softly, "It doesn't matter."

Sitting back on his heels, Krycek stared intently at Mulder, knowing he had to reach him and at a loss as to how to do it. He'd seen Mulder's reactions to far worse situations -- Scully's abduction, the death of his father, his imprisonment in Russia -- Mulder thrived, excelled in adverse situations. He wasn't one to accept defeat gracefully, or for that matter, accept it at all. In adversity, Mulder acted and reacted with all the passion that fueled and defined his obsessive genius. This profound passivity chilled him. Not to mention this was the first time since their partnership ended that Mulder hadn't greeted him with furious blows or death threats.

As Krycek contemplated him, Mulder turned again to look at him. His eyes were unfocused and blank as he said, in the same distressingly soft monotone, "You kissed me."

Krycek jerked back, startled, as Mulder continued to gaze vacantly at him. Of all the things he might have expected Mulder to say...... And he had just said it, not as a question, but as a flat statement of fact. Almost involuntarily, Krycek reached his hand to stroke Mulder's cheek. "Its this damned mole" he mused, his thumb gently brushing over it, "I've wanted to kiss it for years." Krycek narrowed his eyes studying Mulder's face for any reaction to his statement. He thought he'd caught a brief flicker of surprise, but any such reaction was so quickly masked by deadened hazel eyes that Krycek wondered if he'd just imagined it. 

Almost desperate to provoke some, any reaction from Mulder (and if he was honest with himself, unable to resist the opportunity offered by Mulder's quiescent apathy) , Krycek leaned in and softly kissed his lips. Mulder's mouth was cool and unmoving, but he didn't pull away. Krycek continued kissing him gently, his lips closemouthed, gentle and almost chaste. He moved to kiss the corners of Mulder's mouth, then began to explore the sculpted face. His warm lips traced abstract patterns - feathery caresses sprinkled generously along the jaw, eyelids, cheekbones. Krycek's lips brushed the corner of his mouth and lingered for a brief moment opening his mouth to nibble and taste. Mulder held his breath, alternately hoping and dreading that Krycek would stop teasing and take his mouth. Noting the reaction, Krycek pulled away and grinned mischievously.

"Now that I have your attention..." he began, and was unprepared for Mulder's violent and swift reaction. 

"You bastard," he spat. "Everything is just a game to you, a calculated means to an end. I'm sick of being a convenient toy you and your associates can manipulate at will. I'm done being a pawn."

As he concluded his brief tirade, Mulder grabbed Krycek and threw him across the leather couch, pinning his enemy's body underneath his own. Krycek let out a savage groan as Mulder began gyrating his hips, grinding their stiff erections together with a violence that was unbearably erotic and sweetly painful. Mulder's lips captured his, swallowing his groan and obliterating thought as the full lips ravaged and plundered. Mulder's tongue entered Alex's mouth and began a ruthless exploration, occasionally withdrawing to torment lips with sharp teeth. Krycek twisted to free his trapped arm and pulled Mulder's head against his own, deepening the kiss until they wrenched themselves apart, gasping for air. Mulder's eyes narrowed as he gazed at Krycek with a mixture of rage and lust. He stilled the movement of his hips and bent to bite and suck a haphazard path down Krycek's throat. Alex gasped and arched up into Mulder's hardness, renewing the rhythmic motion of their hips. Mulder groaned an incoherent response and reached below to roughly tug Krycek's t-shirt from his waistband. Pushing the fabric to bunch at the base of Alex's neck, he began a determined assault of a pebbled nipple. As Mulder clamped down and twisted the hard flesh with his teeth, Alex let out an involuntary shout. Alex could feel Mulder's swift grin against his heaving chest before the agent moved to cruelly tease the other nipple. The movement of their hips increased with violent frenzy and as the sharp pain of Mulder's teeth traveled in a direct line to torment Alex's throbbing cock he realized it would be over far too soon. He didn't want to come in his pants as they dry humped each other like manic adolescents. 

"Mulder...." he groaned, surprised at how raw and shaky his voice sounded. "Fuck me.... God, please fuck me."

Mulder looked up at him, his face expressing surprise and triumph. He moved off of Alex's shaking frame and removed the other man's boots and pants with ruthless efficiency. He tore open the fly of his jeans and unceremoniously pulled the fabric down his narrow hips. Kneeling between Krycek's open thighs, he spat on his hand and brutally inserted a saliva coated finger into the puckered opening. A second finger joined the first and Krycek gave a sharp cry as the rough fingers created a maelstrom of ecstasy and pain. Mulder's fingers began to relentlessly scissor within Krycek's burning flesh, and then curved, hitting the prostate and causing Alex to buck helplessly against the invading digits. Gracing him with a swift and feral grin, Mulder removed his fingers and spat on his palm, rubbing the fluid along his dripping cock. Alex drew in his breath and lifted his legs to rest on Mulder's shoulders as his cock began its unmerciful violation of the tight channel. After a few breathless seconds, Alex felt the slap of Mulder's heavy balls against his ass. Both men held still as their gazes locked and their chests heaved with effort of restraint. Mulder let out a feral cry and began a fierce rhythm, his thick cock relentlessly invading and retreating from Alex's tight passage. Krycek angled his hips so that Mulder's thrusts repeatedly hit the sensitive gland, ignoring the raw pain resulting from scant lubrication. The sound of their mingled groans and cries reverberated within the empty apartment and Mulder began chanting a breathless mantra, "You bastard....you worthless fuck..... hate you....hate you....hate you......"

"Who are you trying to convince?" Alex muttered as his hand reached to roughly stroke his throbbing cock in concert with Mulder's movement. Mulder's only response was to slam even harder into his body, the pain and impossible ecstasy wrenching a deep throated scream from Alex as his cock convulsively erupted and shot ropy streams of semen, soaking both their shirts. Mulder threw his head back and let out an primal howl and Alex felt warm semen filling, completing him. As the final spasms of his orgasm subsided, Mulder collapsed against Krycek's prone body. Krycek snaked his one arm around Mulder's body and held him tightly as he nuzzled his throat.

Mulder sat up abruptly, disentangled himself and walked across the room. Standing in front of his window, he hiked up and fastened his jeans, crossing his arms protectively across his chest. After contemplating Alex for a long minute, he softly ordered, "Get out. Get out of my apartment, you fuck." 

Alex stared blankly for a moment, and then grinned ruefully. "Your sense of post coital romance is sadly lacking." Mulder continued to stare coldly at the half naked man on his couch, and Alex shook his head as he reached for his jeans. "Funny, I always pictured you as a cuddler."

"Get out," Mulder softly repeated and then turned his back on Krycek to stare out the window.

Alex got on his jeans with relative ease, and then began the laborious process of fastening boots with one hand. Finally done, he walked slowly to the door, turning at the last moment to stare at intently at the stiff posture of the man across the room.

"Mulder," he began, unsure of what exactly he wished to say.

"Go." Mulder firmly replied.

With a helpless shrug, Krycek complied, gently closing the door behind him as he left the apartment. As he walked out into the humid air, he turned to look up at the building. Mulder's body was framed in the window, and Alex paused to contemplate the still figure. For a long moment their gazes locked until Mulder turned and disappeared from view. With a wistful sigh Krycek walked to his car and drove off into the night.

The end.

 

* * *

 

Title: Phoenix II: Resurrection  
Author: Lucy Snowe  
E-mail address:   
Rating: NC-17  
Classification: S,A  
Summary: Mulder contemplates the events of "Phoenix."  
Disclaimers: The characters of the X-Files universe certainly aren't mine. No infringement intended, no money made. Please don't sue unless you wish to assume responsibility for my student loans.  
Author's Note: I sat down today hoping to figure out where I was going with "Phoenix" and this sort of ..... happened. Thanks to everyone who generously sent feedback for my first piece. Feedback for this story is desperately craved, and will be received with immense gratitude and pleasure.

* * *

Phoenix II: Resurrection  
By Lucy Snowe

Walking into his apartment, Mulder threw his travel bag across the floor and hung his trenchcoat on the coat rack. Wearily rubbing his hands over his face, he wondered idly whether a hot shower would be sufficient to rid the lingering tang of manure that plagued him with each breath. After the burning of the X-files, the scent of burnt paper and blackened metal had remained with him for weeks - long after his daily hygiene regimen and regular trips to the laundry room made such a sensory awareness impossible. At odd moments, he still imagined he caught a brief whiff of the acrid ashes that seemed to define the destruction of hope and his current nightmare.

Unbidden, images of that night flashed in his mind - the velvety furnace that consumed his cock as he pounded furiously into Krycek.... the seductive alchemy of lust created by the other man's helpless cries and moans ..... the sense of completion and belonging that his rage couldn't completely obliterate.

Shaking, Mulder inhaled deeply and willed his mind to blankness. He began slowly stripping off his clothes as he made his way to the shower, only minimally aware of his whispering voice, "hate you hate you hate you hate you......" Standing under the pounding spray of hot water, he began to methodically scrub himself clean. As he rinsed the last of the shampoo from his hair Mulder reached for the washcloth and began the process anew. Eventually, the water ran cold, and Mulder forced himself out, haphazardly toweling himself off and donning a pair of sweat pants.

He made his way into the living room, trying to decide if there would be anything edible in his fridge. He had to conclude that the possibility was unlikely; Kersh's most recent banishment of Scully and Mulder to harass innocent farmers had stretched into two weeks. As he considered the relative merits of Chinese food and pizza, Mulder found himself standing in front of the window. With a weary sigh, he looked for and found a car parked directly across from his apartment building. The car was conveniently situated at an equal distance from two streetlights - at the exact point where their combined glow failed to provide any illumination. It was too dark to see inside of the car, but Mulder was unable to shake the feeling that Alex Krycek sat inside, silently contemplating him. For months now, once the sun had set, he'd found a car parked in that exact spot - always a different car, it never clear whether or not it was occupied. Logically, he was aware that he lived in a major metropolitan area and various cars were frequently parked up and down his street. Still, he couldn't dispel the persistent feeling, couldn't deny his belief that cold green eyes vigilantly monitored the windows of his apartment.

"Delusional," he muttered to himself. "I'm a fucking delusional wreck."

He shifted his gaze to the courtyard of his apartment building, remembering the last time he had seen Krycek. After he left the building, Alex had turned to stare up at him and Mulder had witnessed a strange play of emotions over the man's normally cryptic face: regret, desire.......and something Mulder couldn't allow himself to define. As the memories of that night returned to flood his memory and senses, he felt his cock rise and swell, pushing insistently against the soft cotton of his sweats. With a tortured groan, Mulder pulled his cock from its fleeced confines and leaned his forehead against the cool glass and his hands began a rhythmic, caressing dance.

Tears of despair, helplessness and unwanted desire trailed down his cheeks as he desperately stroked his cock in response to the memories that overwhelmed him. His hazel eyes gazed steadily at the parked car, willing Alex Krycek to be there, to be a witness to the torment and ungovernable need he had created. 

The hollow crack of a car backfiring at the end of the street shocked Mulder out of his reverie and brought him to sudden awareness of his position and actions. He quickly retreated to the haven of his couch, turning on the television with the remote and pushing play. His life was fucked up enough without an arrest for indecent exposure - and the last thing he needed was to allow himself to remember the night that should have never happened. The events that he couldn't ever allow himself to experience again.

He forced himself to focus on the celluloid figures erotically cavorting against the canvas of the glowing television screen and brought himself to orgasm, all the while softly chanting his mantra of hate and denial, trying desperately to erase the persistent vision of gleaming green eyes.

********************

Across the street, Alex Krycek sat in his latest stolen vehicle, gasping for breath in the wake of a blinding orgasm that Mulder's appearance in the window had inevitably inspired. He closed his eyes and began the gradual to return to reality. Before the car backfire had scared Mulder away (and nearly inspired Krycek to go after the driver and assassinate him for the unforgivable sin of poor car maintenance), Alex could have sworn Mulder was staring directly at him, displaying himself and his naked need to the man he believed to be his worst enemy and chief betrayer.

He couldn't return here night after night to stare at Mulder's apartment building like some mooning vigilante - a twisted perversion of the classic chivalric knight. But, then, maybe these desperate vigils would no longer be necessary. The vision of Mulder framed in his window had given Alex a sense of hope he hadn't consciously realized he'd been seeking.

Alex twisted the key in ignition and pulled his car out into the deserted street. He grinned with gleeful abandon as inchoate plans and schemes skittered merrily through his mind.

To be continued.........

 

* * *

 

Title: Phoenix III: Campaign  
Author: Lucy Snowe  
E-mail address:   
Rating: R  
Spoilers: not really, knowledge of everything up to the beginning of Season 6 assumed.  
Classification: S,A  
Summary: Krycek's plan begins to unfold  
Disclaimers: The characters who inhabit the X-Files universe certainly aren't mine. No infringement intended, no money made. Please don't sue unless you wish to assume responsibility for my student loans.  
Author's notes: The R rating is actually kind of generous, actually. Suddenly there's a plot. I'm not sure why, but I'm going with it for now. The next installment, however, with be thoroughly smutty and involve only the most scant traces of plot. Thanks again to all who have sent such kind and encouraging feedback. Feedback continues to be craved desperately, and will be received with immense gratitude and pleasure.

* * *

Phoenix III: Campaign  
By Lucy Snowe

Scully walked into the bullpen and set her briefcase down. Mulder gave her a soft "Good morning" and nodded toward the cup of coffee he'd placed on her desk.

"It's still hot - I got in just before you"

Scully smiled her gratitude and took a deep drink of the steaming beverage. Setting it back down, she narrowed her eyes and assessed him critically. "You look awful, Mulder."

He laughed. "You're not looking much better yourself, gorgeous. I think the bags under your eyes actually beat mine"

Scully's rueful grimace acknowledged the truth of his statement. "I was up most of the night poring over the smallpox data."

"Find anything?"

"Something. I've finally discerned a pattern in the biological tags -it's so singularly complex it initially seemed random. Categories, subcategories, sub-subcategories, cross categories..." her voice trailed off. Taking another sip of her coffee, she wearily rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Now I just need to figure out what is being so meticulously categorized and why. How about you?" 

"Nothing. Just thousands of names. The guys are trying to track down addresses for them, and I have them hacking into medical databases as well. Since the names were accompanied by the small pox data, I assume it's a good place to start. I'm going there after work tonight to see if they've found anything. I spent most of the night on the web - looking mostly at abductee groups. I did get a couple of hits, but nothing more than the you'd expect given statistical probability for such a large group." Mulder yawned and briefly rubbed his tired eyes. 

Catching a glance from a co-worker standing across the room, Scully took in her and Mulder's positions. Mulder's lanky frame was bent across her desk, their faces scant inches apart to facilitate their whispered conversation. No wonder half of the FBI were convinced the two of them were embroiled in a torrid affair. Scully shrugged. Better they speculate about a non-existent liaison than what the two of them were really doing.

"We'd accomplish a lot more if we didn't have to waste most of our time and energy tracking fertilizer - this double life is getting old." Scully mused.

"Don't tell me the cloak and dagger routine is already getting stale for you." Mulder grinned. "But you're right. We need the X-Files back. I don't think we've ever needed their resources more."

"Any new theories on the identity of our mysterious informant?"

Mulder shook his head. "No. I've asked the guys to look into that as well, but that's not as much of a priority as the list." He paused and then added with a cynical grin, "I'm sure whoever it is will reveal their true identity once it's convenient to their overarching plan."

Nodding her agreement as she stood up, Scully tugged her suit jacket into place and her brisk professionalism immediately manifested itself. "Well, we have to leave this for now and don our obedient FBI agent masks. Kersh expects us in his office in ten minutes." 

Mulder grabbed a file folder and rose, making a gallant sweep with his arm, "Lead the way, squirrel."

***********************

Alex sent off his latest email to Mulder and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin. He regretted the death of his benefactor, but the British gentleman had left him a legacy of knowledge that could bring all of his plans to fruition. Alex harbored a bitter, almost blinding desire for revenge against the bastard puppet masters who populated the upper echelons of the Consortium - a certain chain-smoking villain graced the top of his list. But though he planned suitably cruel downfalls for the majority of them, Alex's innate pragmatism forced him to acknowledge that the actual infrastructure and functions of the Consortium would need to remain in place. The United Nations could barely control a few small dictators who practiced genocide and other atrocities with willful abandon; Alex knew he could hardly trust the legitimate governments of the world to deal successfully with the scope of the threat colonization posed. They'd probably waste what precious time remained attempting to figure out a way to impose sanctions on the otherworldly aggressors.

Passing on choice bits of information from the invaluable legacy to Mulder was only the beginning of his plans. He was careful in what he chose to send. Krycek was fully aware of Mulder's tenuous position at the FBI and his inability to actively follow up on a lot of the information Alex had at his disposal. He needed to provide the agent with background material that would prepare him for his eventual role, yet that wouldn't prompt any rash actions which might cause Mulder to be irrevocably removed from the Bureau. Krycek needed Mulder at the helm of the X-Files, not the two Consortium toadies who were currently in charge.

For now, Mulder could wonder at the identity of his latest mysterious source. Soon, however, Krycek would have to reveal himself and hope his carefully laid plans would fall neatly into place. He needed Mulder. The success of his ambitious plans to save the world (Alex indulged in a self-deprecating grin at the irony of his new mission) certainly depended on the quixotic agent, and god only knew he needed Mulder to fulfill a far more personal agenda. As he contemplated the depth and tenor of his need for the man who so justifiably hated him, Alex's cock obediently rose to attention. With a sense of resignation borne out of the knowledge that he really wouldn't, *couldn't* be satisfied until he had Mulder again, Krycek unzipped his jeans and grabbed his rapidly filling cock with a strong grip.

"Soon," he promised himself, "soon."

********************************

Precariously balancing a take-out pizza and six-pack of beer, Mulder impatiently rang the buzzer outside the Lone Gunmen headquarters and stared beseechingly into the surveillance camera. A few moments later the heavy iron door swung slowly open.

"You look like shit, Mulder," Langly greeted him as he stood back to let him in. Standing behind the cyber-hippie, Byers nodded his agreement as he carefully took in Mulder's haggard face and shadowed eyes.

"Thanks guys. Scully keeps telling me the same thing. Soon enough you'll all start commenting on my nose and then I'll really develop a complex about my looks."

Langly snorted in response as the three men made their way into the inner sanctum. Swiveling away from a glowing computer monitor, Frohike sniffed the aroma of pizza appreciatively and grinned. "Lay off the guy, he comes bearing food."

"And beer," Mulder replied, carefully placing his offerings atop a paper strewn table. Grabbing a piece of the greasy delicacy, he walked over to peer intently at Frohike's screen. "Find anything yet?" 

"We've managed to pinpoint the locations of the majority of the people on the list. With a few exceptions, all of them live in or near major metropolitan areas across the country." Byers replied.

"And we've also found most of them listed in various medical databases, generally connected to the larger hospitals and health plans in their area. Nothing unusual or suspicious so far." Frohike added. "We've hit a brick wall tracing your informant, however. Whoever he is, he knows what he's doing. I'll keep trying, though."

"That's all right, I wasn't really expecting anything," Mulder said and then began pacing restlessly across the room. "There's got to be something there," he muttered "See if you can trace the history of their smallpox vaccinations," he added and headed to the door.

"Will do." Langly offered, his voice muffled by the generous amount of pizza he'd just shoved in his mouth.

"You're leaving already?" Byers asked. "You should have more to eat, Mulder."

"I know, Mom, but I really do need to go." Mulder gave the three men a brief wave over his shoulder as he disappeared into the hallway and out the door.

********************

As he entered his apartment, Mulder made a beeline for his computer as had been his habit in recent weeks. He quickly logged on and then felt crushing disappointment when his mailbox was empty save for the usual invitations to visit XXX sites. After draping his coat over the back of his chair, he approached the window. The car wasn't there. Hadn't been there since the night he'd made such a reckless exhibition of himself in front of the window. Other cars parked in or near the spot, of course, but somehow he knew they no longer housed his vigilante. And if he needed to trust in anything anymore, it was his intuitive sense. "Spooky," he said aloud and laughed softly.

He didn't, however, necessarily trust his intuition that Alex Krycek had been the occupant of that car. In all likelihood, it had been another in a long line of Consortium watchers. He imagined surveillance had been canceled after his insane display. "Our work here is done," some smug goon had probably informed his shadowy boss, "the subject appeared half naked in his window tonight, and then proceeded to jack-off and cry. The fertilizer detail has finally driven him completely insane. He no longer poses any threat to us."

Alex Krycek. What was it he'd said to him that night? That he'd no longer be a pawn, wouldn't serve any of Krycek's or his cohorts agendas any longer? He was still unclear on why Krycek had appeared that night, or what his agenda had been. (It couldn't have been something as simple as desire, Mulder firmly told his traitorous body.) But, whatever Krycek's purpose, Mulder now felt helplessly in his thrall. An unwilling pawn courtesy of his cursed memory and impossible desires. He'd never been one to restrain his need for self-gratification, but if he didn't find a way to stop endlessly replaying the events of that night, he'd soon be blind with prodigiously hairy palms. "Hate you hate you hate you," echoed faintly in his mind, the oft-used mantra that he could hardly bring himself to voice any longer.

"How can I want someone I hate so much?" Mulder softly asked himself as his elegant fingers traced haphazard patterns on the cool glass.

His reverie was interrupted by the chime of his computer indicating new mail. He felt a rush of adrenaline course through his system as he recognized the address of his informant. 

The message was simple and terse: "The Four Provinces, Cleveland Park. 9 p.m." Glancing at his watch, Mulder grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

**********************

Minutes after Mulder exited his apartment, Alex Krycek silently let himself in, thanks to a highly efficient lockpick device. He surveyed the apartment with immense satisfaction. 

"Let the game begin," he whispered and smiled with anticipatory glee. 

To be continued.......

 

* * *

 

Phoenix IV: Conquest   
Author: Lucy Snowe   
E-mail address:   
Rating: NC-17   
Spoilers: not really, knowledge of everything up to the beginning of Season 6 assumed.   
Category: M/K   
Summary: Mulder discovers his informant's identity   
Disclaimers: The characters who inhabit the X-Files universe certainly aren't mine. No infringement intended, no money made. Please don't sue unless you wish to assume responsibility for my student loans.  
Author's Notes: We're back to a NC-17 rating here. Only the most minimal inclusion of plot - this is mostly a contrived and gratuitous excuse for the boys to make hot monkey love. Continued thanks to all who have sent such kind and encouraging feedback. Feedback continues to be craved desperately, and will be received with immense gratitude and pleasure.

* * *

Phoenix IV: Conquest  
By Lucy Snowe

Mulder's adrenaline fueled drive through the streets of D.C. brought him to the Four Provinces just a few minutes short of nine o'clock. Walking into the cavernous and smoky Irish styled pub, his eyes began a careful scan of the room. A three piece band commanded attention on a small stage set in the corner, and the bar was filled with laughing, rowdy patrons. He didn't recognize anyone, nor did he see any sinister, trenchcoat draped figures. Dodging a few drunken dancers and the busy wait staff who precariously balanced trays laden with all manner of alcoholic beverages, Mulder made his way to the bar. Finding an empty barstool he sat and resumed his study of the crowd. A few minutes later a vibrant redhead who bore a passing resemblance to Scully appeared in front of him and asked what he wanted to drink with a charming brogue. Wanting to remain alert, Mulder ordered a club soda. The bartender gave him a disapproving frown (exponentially increasing her resemblance to his partner) but quickly returned with his drink.

Turning slightly so he could keep an eye on the door, Mulder sipped his drink as his leg rhythmically bounced with nervous anticipation. The door opened frequently to admit expectant revelers, but as the bar became increasingly crowded no one had approached him. He glanced at his watch. A quarter to ten. The sinking feeling that had been building in his stomach intensified. *Please don't let this be another exercise in futility* he silently begged.

After another half hour passed, Mulder lost hold of his last shreds of hope that his informant would appear. Placing his elbows on the bar, he briefly cradled his head in his hands and then looked up to get the bartender's attention. "A shot of whiskey and a Guinness," he tersely requested. Giving him an uncertain, but sympathetic smile, the bartender silently filled his order then left him alone. Mulder downed the whiskey with a slight grimace then gratefully took a generous swig of the creamy, slightly bitter stout. Maybe if he had enough to drink the night wouldn't be a complete loss.

*************************** 

A few hours later, Mulder let himself into his dark apartment. Not bothering to turn on any lights, he made his way to the couch on unsteady legs. As he flopped on the comfortable leather he concluded should have called a cab from the bar. Driving under the influence, indecent exposure - relatively minor offenses, but soon he'd probably be as unrepentant a criminal as Alex Krycek.

"No no no no nononononono" his brain screamed frantically as images of an erotically flushed, moaning, green-eyed criminal invaded his thoughts. Mulder rarely drank to excess, but with a few notable exceptions, he'd been particularly temperate in recent months. Alcohol lowered his inhibitions, making his traitorous thoughts almost impossible to control. He was tormented enough by the memory of that night when sober; when drunk he was consumed by blind, craving need and could barely summon his fury and hate. Mulder let out a tortured moan and cried out Alex's name.

As if summoned by his voice, Krycek stepped out of the dark shadows at the edge of the room, pointing a gun squarely at Mulder's chest. Shocked into paralysis, Mulder stared at him with blank surprise.

"Get stood up by your mysterious informant?" Krycek inquired with a malicious grin.

"What are you doing here?" Mulder demanded, mortified at how harsh and shaky his voice sounded. "And what do you know about my informant?"

Krycek laughed delightedly. "You mean you hadn't guessed, Mulder? I am your shadowy source," he said and executed a mock gallant bow while keeping the gun trained steadily on the other man.

"Goddamn you!" Mulder shouted in an explosion of rage. Heedless of the gun, he stood and rushed Krycek with raised fists. Alex easily sidestepped the drunken man and brought his good arm around him from behind, shoving the cold muzzle of his gun under Mulder's throat.

"Don't fight, Mulder," Krycek commanded softly. "I won't kill you, but I'm not adverse to a little maiming."

"Goddamn you," Mulder repeated, but didn't struggle. Smiling indulgently, Krycek raised his prosthetic hand to the agent's face. It was covered by slightly damp cotton glove and smelled vaguely sweet. As Krycek covered his face and nose, Mulder made a futile effort to hold his breath. Krycek waited patiently, and was soon rewarded when instinct kicked in, forcing Mulder to take a series of deep breaths. The effect of the drug was nearly instantaneous and Alex felt the tension bleed out of warm body in front of him. Lowering his gun, he walked around to face Mulder.

"Everything's going to be all right," he said in a soothing tone. "It's nothing deadly, just a little cocktail of ether and rohypnol. Just do what I say and you'll be fine." Mulder gave a slight nod and Krycek let out a sigh of relief.

"Come on then, I need to take you on a little ride."

With the careful gait of a drunken somnambulist, Mulder obediently followed Krycek to his car. Alex helped the agent in and then walked around to the other side. As he slid behind the steering wheel, he glanced across the seat. Mulder's head was lolling against the headrest and he appeared to be unconscious. Alex slapped his face a few times to no avail. The alcohol must have interfered with the drug. "Why the fuck did I have to send him to a bar?" he muttered with annoyance. Making the familiar, vain wish for the return of his loss arm, Krycek pulled out into the street and resigned himself to the inevitably awkward fireman's carry.

*************************** 

As he gradually returned to consciousness, Mulder squinted warily as his eyes adjusted to the soft illumination of the room. Glancing at his surroundings, he took in the shabby, faded splendor of what must have once been the height of Victorian elegance. The four poster bed he was carefully tucked into spoke of age and neglect with its dry, cracked wood and myriad scars and gouges. The tall windows were covered with faded burgundy velvet that was shredded in a few places and so threadbare as to be almost transparent. The room was lit with a few anachronistically modern lamps and the soft glow of two electric space heaters. Turning his head to see the rest of the room, Mulder was unsurprised to see Alex Krycek seated in a dilapidated horsehair chair, his gun casually resting on his thigh. He pushed the covers back and sat up against the headboard.

Giving a frank sigh of relief, Krycek leaned forward. "You've been out for awhile. I was starting to worry."

"Then you shouldn't have drugged me."

Recognizing the anger in the other man's eyes, Krycek shrugged and tightened his hold on the gun. "It was the only way I could get you here with a minimum of fuss and violence. We need to talk."

Mulder sneered. "I imagine an aging, crippled, fuck-toy like you would have to resort to guns and drugs to get companionship."

Alex narrowed his eyes and a violent, dangerous mask shuttered his features. He cocked the gun and pointed it steadily at Mulder. "I won't kill you, but my earlier threat to maim still holds."

Despite himself, Mulder felt a brief stab of guilt. Krycek had screened his face with surprising speed, but not before a brief flash of his eyes had betrayed pain. Mulder closed his eyes and shook his head in resignation. Why the fuck should he feel guilt over anything he said to this man? Sometimes he hated himself almost as much as he did Krycek. "Fine, I'll behave. Put the gun away and we can *talk.*"

Krycek stared and considered him for a long moment. Then he lowered the gun.

"Only talk, Mulder?" Krycek asked as he engaged the safety and set the gun carefully on a small table. Walking over to the bed, he perched beside Mulder and laid his hand on the agent's thigh. "I can't tell you how disappointed I am."

Mulder stiffened immediately. "Get your fucking hand off me," he bit out from between painfully clenched teeth.

Alex ignored him and began firmly stroking the warm, jean encased thigh. He was gratified to observe an immediate response as a telltale bulge appeared in Mulder's crotch. "You don't really mean that," he coaxed, leaning forward until their faces were only inches apart.

"I do...I..do," Mulder stammered, his voice betraying his desperation. "Please don't do this."

"I can't. I have to - I need to do this," Krycek responded and gently kissed Mulder's trembling mouth. Mulder managed to hold his rebellious body in check for an eternal minute before blinding lust and desire overwhelmed him. With a barely audible moan, he opened his mouth and responded to Krycek's kiss with a devouring intensity. For a while they were content with the bruising fervor of their kisses, but soon hands and arms began restless explorations. Krycek removed his mouth from swollen lips to nuzzle and bite the line of the agent's jaw, the elegant column of his neck. Mulder let out a groan and began frantically pulling Alex's shirt from his jeans. "Clothes," he muttered, "too many clothes last time. I need you naked." Krycek gave a joyous shout of triumph and soon clothes were flying off the bed to litter the worn carpet.

Once both men were naked, Krycek paused and stared intently at the elegant sprawl of Mulder's body. His hand reached out to cup Mulder's stubbled cheek, then traced a reverent path down the sweat-glistened torso. His need for this man inspired such a deep ache; now that he was spread before him like a decadent offering, Alex hardly knew where to begin. Mulder reached out his hand and mirrored Alex's movements, then trailed his hand up toward the savagely truncated limb. Alex let out a careful breath and stoically resisted his instinctive need to cringe and move away. "You're still so beautiful," Mulder whispered, his voice made husky with desire and pain. Alex looked down at his lover's face and was shocked to see tears welling in expressive hazel eyes. He froze, unprepared for the bewildering rush of emotions Mulder's compassion inspired. Alex closed his eyes against piercing, impossibly sweet pain. "This is not what I need," he said in a hollow tone of denial. Mulder's hand returned to cup Alex's face, his thumb brushing over open lips.

"Then, touch me. Take whatever it is you do need."

Krycek's eyes flew open, and with a savage cry, his head swept down in a dizzying rush of motion to attack Mulder's body. With his hand, mouth and body he attempted to taste, brand and ravage every inch of the man who laid before him. Mulder writhed in sinuous pleasure against the erotic assault. His moans and cries created a continuous cacophony of sound which echoed madly in Krycek's head as roving hands encouraged and inflamed him. Krycek sat back to straddle silky thighs and then engulfed Mulder's throbbing cock into the wet furnace of his mouth. Mulder gave an inarticulate scream as his hips began thrusting helplessly into the devouring mouth. Placing his arm on the top of Mulder's thighs, Alex managed to still the man's wild movements. Alex's lips and tongue repeatedly caressed and explored the length of Mulder's cock as he established an unrelenting rhythm. Mulder's moans had degenerated into pleading sobs and at long last, Alex released the purpled, straining flesh. Firmly squeezing the base of Mulder's cock, Alex's tongue delicately teased the throbbing vein that ran along the underside of the silky shaft. Releasing his prize, he then burrowed his head and inhaled the musky scent of Mulder's tightened balls. Carefully drawing them into his mouth, he nuzzled, sucked, and lightly bit with abandon until Mulder's cries escalated to a feverish pitch and the older man's hands tugged painfully at his hair. "Please...god....Alex...please...just.....please...pleasepleasepl ease..."

Reaching for the lube he'd stashed in the bedside table, Alex flipped the cap open and squeezed a generous amount against Mulder's glistening anus. He threw the tube to the side and began slowly working the lube inside. His moans began to rival Mulder's as silky burning muscles milked his fingers and caused his cock to throb with painful anticipation. As curved fingers began to scrape repeatedly against his prostate, Mulder's marshaled what remained of his coherence and shouted, "Now, damnit, now."

"Roll on your side," Krycek ordered and retrieved the tube to squeeze lubricant along his cock. As his hand distributed the slick substance, he moaned, "I'm so fucking close." In response, Mulder's moans increased in tenor as he blindly thrust his ass towards Alex's waiting cock. Holding tight to Mulder's gyrating hip, Alex began to slowly enter him. As soon as the blunt tip of his cock was inside, Mulder screamed hoarsely and in one swift move impaled himself on the length of Alex's cock.

Alex closed his eyes and bit his lip against the flood of sensation that nearly sent him over the edge. "Don't move, Mulder, or I swear I'll kill you," Alex threatened, his voice savage and unfamiliar to his own ears. With a brief whimper, Mulder's movements subsided, and Alex held still, concentrating on his harsh breathing until he gained enough control to begin moving. With brutal, instinctive thrusts Krycek rammed into Mulder's willing flesh. Mulder's hand wrapped around his aching cock and the two men began moving in delirious concert. Too soon, far too soon, Krycek heard Mulder's cry of release and the strong muscular contractions pulled him headlong over the edge. He felt as if his orgasm was being ripped from his very core, and for a blissful moment he blacked out from the onslaught of excruciating pleasure.

As reality began to once again take hold, Alex gave a soft groan and withdrew from Mulder's pliant flesh. He wrapped his arm around the other man and drew lazy circles in the semen that anointed Mulder's belly. For long moments, Alex was content to hold Mulder close and revel in the unusual peace and delicious sensation. The interlude was abruptly shattered by an anguished moan. Mulder rolled away to curl in a tight ball on the far side of the bed. His shoulders were shaking as he pulled his legs against his chest and began a slight rocking motion. Krycek reached out a tentative hand and began stroking the agent's back. "It's okay, Mulder, it'll be okay."

Mulder gave a harsh bark of laughter and shook his head. "No, Alex, it's not going to be okay. I'm impossibly drawn to you. Against my will, my reason. And I should hate you ... I need to hate you." He paused to take a deep breath. It's just so hard..."

"Stop touching me!" he yelled and got off the bed. "Goddamnit, Krycek, you betrayed me, you killed my father, you...." His tirade trailed off and he wearily ran his fingers through his hair. "You know the drill - you know what you've done."

Krycek stared steadily at Mulder and then came to a decision.

"Yes, Mulder, I sold you out to the Consortium when we were partners. I did kill your father. I facilitated Scully's abduction and was there when her sister was killed. I attacked Skinner and stole the digital tape you so desperately wanted," Krycek said flatly.

Rather than sparking revenge fueled rage, Krycek's quiet words made Mulder suddenly calm. The man he wanted so desperately *was* the monster he knew. There was no longer any possibility for denial, redemption or hope. Paradoxically, the knowledge gave Mulder an odd sense of peace and freedom.

Returning to the bed, he stretched out again and propped himself up on his elbow, gazing down at Krycek's impassive face. "What happened to your usual fervent professions of innocence?" He paused as if deep in thought. "God, please don't tell me you're some perverted shapeshifter."

Krycek smiled crookedly. "Shouldn't you be trying to kill me right about now?"

"Shouldn't you be feeding me pretty lies right now? Manipulating me for whatever your current twisted agenda might be?" Mulder countered.

"Ah, but Mulder, I am manipulating you. I finally figured it out. Truth is the only currency you'll accept, and as such, it's the most effective tool against you." The expression on Krycek's face was almost kind.

Unable to look at him any longer, Mulder collapsed on his back and stared intently at the ceiling. After a long weighted silence, he spoke. "What *is* your agenda, Alex? Why have you been sending me the information? Why.....why this?" His hand made a vague gesture, encompassing their sprawled, naked bodies.

Krycek rose to kneel next to Mulder. "I need you," he stated flatly, then trailed his hand down the length of Mulder's body. "I need this." His warm, callused hand cupped Mulder's spent cock and he bent to rain kisses upon the slightly furred and sticky chest. Mulder let out a helpless groan.

"Not now. We'll talk about it later," he promised and forestalled any of Mulder's protests with a searing kiss. Mulder's cock began to swell under Krycek's practiced touch and intoxicating desire returned to pound through his veins. He conceded to the inevitable and wrapped his arms around the other man, pulling Alex down to cover him.

"Later..." Mulder agreed.

To be continued........

 

* * *

 

Phoenix V: Dawning   
Author: Lucy Snowe   
E-mail address:   
Rating: NC-17   
Classification: S,A   
Spoilers: not really, knowledge of everything up to the beginning of Season 6 assumed.   
Classification: M/K   
Summary: The morning after.....   
Disclaimer: The characters of the X-Files universe certainly aren't mine. No infringement intended, no money made. Please don't sue unless you wish to assume responsibility for my student loans.  
Authors Notes: Mostly smut and some conversation. No real plot - S.R. 1819 gave me some new ideas that I still have to work out. Extravagant thanks go out to my beta reader, Karen, who certainly improved this. Thanks also to all who have sent such kind and encouraging feedback. Feedback continues to be craved desperately, and will be received with immense gratitude and pleasure.

* * *

Phoenix V: Dawning  
By Lucy Snowe

.......the icy darkness was punctured by licking flames -- glowing, lunatic wraiths that danced with gay abandon, illuminating sallow faces in syncopated bursts of light. The faces melted, indistinguishable as they coalesced into a menacing fog, and the flames tore into his arm, branding him with fiery agony. He felt, rather than heard, his raw screams - all of his other senses eclipsed by the excruciating pain that demanded the sole possession of awareness. A final shattering twist of bone, and the agony retreated, replaced by a dull roar of white sound. Consciousness began a slow recession as a bloody arm landed unceremoniously atop the fire. Fingers blackened and curled and the cloying, sweet smell of roasting flesh chased him into the void.....

Krycek's eyes flew open and blinked rapidly. He forced himself to take slow, measured breaths as he catalogued his surroundings. The eerie glow of pre-dawn bled in through threadbare curtains. Musty sheets covered his sweat-cooled flesh, and a warm, heavy arm was flung haphazardly across his chest. His eyes followed the length of the arm and stopped to gaze at the sleeping form beside him. Mulder lay sprawled on his back, his face turned slightly away towards the arm that curled above his head. His mouth was relaxed and slightly open, the soft cadence of his snores filled the room.

Krycek felt a sudden, acute need for the other man. To drown himself in desire and erase the lingering fever of his nightmare, banish the throbbing pain of his missing arm. He carefully eased himself from under the constricting arm and rose to kneel beside his sleeping partner. Lifting the sheet, he pulled it away to reveal the long, sinewy lines of Mulder's body. With an incoherent mumble, Mulder drew his arm against his body and turned his face further into the pillow. Krycek lifted his hand, then laid it to rest on the solid flesh that encased a steadily beating heart. The sure steady pulse reverberated through his body and harmonized with the painful throbbing of his cock. With a tortured sigh, Alex removed his hand and wrapped it around his aching flesh. He indulged himself in a few lingering strokes as he contemplated the sleeping body before him. Such dangerous beauty. Involving himself with Mulder was either the most criminally insane decision of his twisted life, or the most brilliant. Would this reckless association herald his downfall or achieve his redemption? As heady desire pounded insistently through his veins, Krycek could hardly bring himself to care.

He straddled elegantly sprawled legs and bent to carefully draw Mulder's flaccid cock into his mouth. For a long moment he was content to gently tongue the soft flesh and savor the other man's earthy, primal scent. Soon, however, Mulder's cock began to twitch and fill within the warm cavern of his mouth. Krycek groaned and suckled the thickening flesh in earnest. Mulder's hips began to undulate gently as he arched into the voracious mouth. A long sigh and a husky pronouncement of his name told Alex of Mulder's return to consciousness. Hands reached down to tangle in his hair, and Krycek allowed the thrusts to deepen, filling his mouth and soul with the flavor of Mulder's desire. Mulder's movements became more frenzied and his hands began to tug painfully at short, silky hair. Acute need returned to overwhelm him, and Krycek wrenched his mouth away, and pushed at Mulder's hip. "Turn over," he ordered, desperation evident in the broken tone of his voice. Mulder complied with graceful speed, and thrust his ass expectantly into the air. Krycek rummaged for the almost empty tube of lubricant, coated his fingers and plunged them into the burning heat of Mulder's body. He was still slightly open and slick from the previous night and Krycek offered a muttered prayer of thanks. He swiftly lubed his cock and sank into the fiery, pliant flesh. With an anguished cry, he began to thrust furiously and too soon felt his orgasm build to rip through his body with savage violence.

Disappointment warred with the delicious sensation of release and completion, and Krycek became aware of Mulder's arm moving with a frantic pumping motion. He pulled himself free of burning flesh, and roughly rolled Mulder onto his back. The other man's eyes were dark with incoherent, desperate need, and Krycek lowered his head to once again take the straining flesh into his mouth. His lips clamped down on the engorged cock, and his tongue swirled frantically as he sucked hard, repeatedly drawing in Mulder's flesh as deeply as he could. Mulder's hips moved in an ever increasing tempo, and Alex ignored the burning chafe at the back of his throat. Mulder let out a hoarse scream and his cock began to pump convulsively, his semen exploding in a thick rush to fill Krycek's mouth and pour down his throat. He continued to suckle and tongue with a steady rhythm, determinedly milking the last dregs of orgasm until Mulder forcibly pushed his head away. "Too much...too much," he muttered as his body shook in the aftermath of passion.

Krycek moved to stretch along the warm body, and the two men exchanged desultory, voluptuous kisses. Abruptly, Mulder ended the contact. His face had smoothed into a cold, unreadable mask. Gingerly he moved to sit at the edge of the bed, and then gracefully rose and walked slowly toward the bathroom. Alex stared intently at the closed door, bracing himself for Mulder's return. He tried to theorize about the possible workings of Mulder's mercurial mind, but had to concede defeat. The previous night, this morning, had unequivocally confirmed their mutual attraction and need, and Mulder hadn't told him he hated him in at least twelve hours. Progress of some sort, he supposed, but there were still a multitude of unanswered questions, unresolved issues. Though Mulder had seemed unnaturally sanguine in the wake of his confession, Alex wasn't naive or optimistic enough to imagine the subject of his crimes was closed. For all he knew and understood about Mulder, despite the facility with which he could push buttons and manipulate the other man, he was still an enigma in many respects. Krycek knew he would just have to trust his instincts and act with the careful precision and deliberation that had kept him alive so long. He'd come too far to fuck this up now. He needed Mulder as an ally....and more.

Mulder emerged from the bathroom, and stared at him intently. Krycek calmly returned the stare, until Mulder looked away. He walked over to his pants and began pulling them on. "Would it be too much to hope that you have any food, coffee, around this place?"

Krycek smiled crookedly. "Yeah, just let me freshen up, and I'll give you the grand tour." He rose and disappeared into the bathroom.

As he walked back into the bedroom, he saw Mulder by the small table, staring at the gun that rested there.

"Are you going to shoot me?" Alex asked, forcing himself to sound nonchalant.

"Not if you really have coffee," Mulder replied easily, and turned away from the table. Krycek grinned and reached to pull his jeans on. Mulder was already clothed in his slacks, his wrinkled dress shirt hung open, revealing his sculpted chest. Krycek found his t-shirt half under the bed, tugged it on and headed out of the bedroom. Mulder followed him down the dark hall and creaking stairs. Krycek led him into a large, open kitchen, and walked across to the sink.

He filled a tea kettle and set it to heat on an ancient gas stove. "All I have is instant," he said apologetically, and then crossed to the refrigerator to retrieve the bagels and muffins he'd stashed there.

Mulder shrugged, "It'll do," and grabbed an offered bagel. The two men ate in silence until the kettle's piercing scream broke the stillness. Krycek rose, dumped the instant flakes into two mugs, filled them and returned to the table.

Mulder took a long drink and grimaced. "Next time you kidnap me, you could at least stock decent coffee." Krycek shrugged his response and drank the bitter liquid.

"Why did you go to all this trouble? Why the charade?" Mulder asked quietly. "Wouldn't have it been easier to just show up at my apartment and subdue me there?"

"Subdued is the last word I'd use to describe you last night." Krycek answered. Mulder didn't respond, his steady stare demanding an answer. Alex sighed. "I told you last night, I wanted to accomplish this with a minimum of violence. If I'd showed up while you were at your apartment, you would have had the advantage and I would have had to hurt you."

"Or I would have hurt you."

Krycek laughed softly. "Not last night, you wouldn't have. You only hurt me when I decide to let you."

Mulder's expression was inscrutable. "Okay, why bring me here? The drugs worked wonderfully, there wasn't any need to remove me."

"And have Scully arrive the next morning when you failed to show up at work?"

"Scully...." Mulder groaned. "Do you have a phone? I need to call her."

"And tell her what?"

Mulder grimaced. "Just that I'm fine. It's early enough that she probably hasn't even left for the office, and I can keep her from launching a full scale search. She'll be suspicious, but I hardly think she's ready to hear about.....this." He paused and added softly to himself, "I don't think she'll ever be ready."

Alex left the room and returned with a cell phone. Mulder's conversation with her was short and uninformative. He asked her to cover for him with Kersh, and told her he'd see her that night and explain then.

Mulder turned the phone off and laid it on the table. "Well, she's certainly suspicious, but I've bought myself some time." He glanced around the kitchen. "So, what is the place?"

"I inherited it, years ago, from ..... a patron," Krycek explained, "I rarely come here, and I've made sure no one knows about it."

"So we're safe?" Mulder asked with an ironic smile.

"Safe enough." Krycek replied, wondering if it was true. He finished his coffee and returned to the counter. "Want some more? The water's still hot." Mulder nodded and handed him his mug. Alex prepared more of the noxious brew and returned to the table. He found himself watching Mulder's throat with fascination as he swallowed.

"So, why'd you sleep with me?" Krycek asked curiously.

Mulder sputtered, almost losing his coffee. He paused to take a deep breath, willing himself to regain composure. "Well, it certainly beats jacking off," he said with a smirk.

Alex chose to ignore his flippancy and shook his head slowly. "I never knew, I was never sure."

Mulder stared at him until realization dawned. "What, that I was bisexual? Surely, the extensive files the Consortium has compiled on me included that juicy tidbit." Mulder said in disbelief. "I always thought that was why they assigned you to me."

It was Krycek's turn to sputter. "No," he shook his head, "somehow that fact has escaped them. To my knowledge, anyway." He paused and considered. "I'm sure seduction would've been part of my job description if they'd known."

"So they have a history of employing you as a whore?" Mulder asked in a studied, casual tone. Krycek could practically see the gears turning in his mind, adding this fact to his ongoing profile. He stared into his mug with feigned concentration, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Why did *you* let me fuck you, Krycek?" Mulder asked softly.

Krycek looked up at him, naked need evident in gleaming green eyes. "I couldn't help myself." He took another drink of coffee. "I hadn't actually planned on it - but that night that I showed up at your apartment...." his voice trailed off, appalled at what he'd revealed.

The two men stared at each other and a tense silence filled the room. Needing to reclaim some measure of control, Krycek rose and rinsed his mug in the sink. He took a deep breath and turned to face Mulder again.

"We need to talk. There are some things I need to show you," he stated flatly.

Mulder's eyes narrowed. "Don't be so sure that I'm going to fall neatly into your plans."

"I can get you the X-Files back," Krycek promised with grim certainty.

"How?" he demanded, "and at what cost?" Mulder's voice was laced with disbelief and contempt.

"That's what we need to talk about." Krycek replied calmly, and walked out of the room.

To be continued.....

 

* * *

 

Phoenix VI: Discord   
Author: Lucy Snowe   
E-mail address:   
Rating: NC-17   
Spoilers: Lots, everything through the fifth season   
Classification: S,A   
Category: M/K   
Summary: Alex begins to unveil his plans.   
Disclaimers: The characters who inhabit the X-Files universe certainly aren't mine. No infringement intended, no money made. Please don't sue unless you wish to assume responsibility for my student loans.  
Author's Notes: This installment definitely carries an NC-17 rating, but also has lots of plot heavy dialogue (sorry - couldn't get Alex to shut-up <g>). All hail Karen - genius beta reader, wonderful friend, occasional therapist, and all around goddess. I couldn't have done it without her. Continued thanks to all who have sent such kind and encouraging feedback. Feedback continues to be craved desperately, and will be received with immense gratitude and pleasure.

* * *

Phoenix VI: Discord  
By Lucy Snowe

Mulder remained in the kitchen for a moment, staring blankly at the doorway Alex had just exited through. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? He didn't trust Krycek. He *hated* Krycek. In contradiction to these well established truths, he had somehow spent the better part of the night having sex with the traitor. Having the best sex of his life, honesty forced him to amend. A healthy dose of self-delusion would be more than welcome right now. Mulder indulged himself in a self-pitying sigh. His desire for the other man only served to further fuel his hatred. *Yeah, sure, he thought to himself, you just keep telling yourself that.* Mulder had never felt such a sense of completeness - of communion - with anyone, and it made a certain perverse sense that he'd found it with a duplicitous, amoral, criminal bastard. He felt a boneless rush of desire as he remembered Alex's mouth on his cock this morning, coaxing him to consciousness. In his fuzzy, half-awake state, he had felt a blinding rush of emotions: desire, comfort, security, tenderness ..... happiness. When Alex buried himself in his flesh, Mulder had experienced a painfully exquisite sense of belonging: he had felt inextricably bound to the other man and for a dizzying moment had been willing to do anything, be anything Krycek wanted.

And now Krycek was dangling the X-files in front of him - a siren singing of tantalizing, irresistible possibilities. Mulder knew the treacherous rocks lay in wait, but recent events left him in doubt as to whether he possessed the necessary resolve to resist. He was so tempted to believe Alex was committed to telling him the truth. Of course, this new and unique candor only served to better the interests of Krycek's mysterious new agenda. Krycek seemed uncharacteristically honest about his intentions, and it made a certain twisted sense. Mulder could almost let himself believe. Almost. And god, but he wanted to believe; he wanted Alex with desperate madness. He wanted to succumb to his extravagant promises. Mulder had never felt so confused, so out of control. With another self-indulgent sigh, he rose from the table and left the kitchen to find Krycek.

Krycek was just shutting down his battered laptop when Mulder appeared in the doorway of the decrepit study. Early morning sunlight lit the room revealing the lazy progress of drifting dust motes and the delicate tracery of the cobwebs that adorned the high ceilings. The bookshelves which lined the room's walls were painted with thick layers of dust and mostly empty save for a few moldering leather-bound volumes that had been abandoned to lie in disarray. Alex was seated in a large leather chair behind a massive oak desk , backlit by the light streaming in from the window. The wicked beauty of his features was shadowed, and Mulder felt irrational gratitude. If he couldn't see Alex clearly, if he didn't have to watch the fascinating play of intelligence and emotion that lurked behind enigmatic green eyes, he might be able to regain his balance and perspective.

"Done sulking?" Alex asked with deceptive mildness.

Mulder declined to respond, as any hope for rationality and distance was abruptly destroyed by Alex's mocking tone and uncanny intuition. He dug his fingernails into his palms and concentrated on controlling his sudden urge to cross the room and beat the smug bastard until he was nothing more than a bloody parody of the human form. Once Mulder could reasonably trust his resolve, he entered the room and sat on a high-backed, leather chair that faced the desk. He winced at the sensation of hard, unyielding leather against his newly tender ass. "Just say your piece, Krycek."

Krycek reached for a thick manila folder and handed it to Mulder. "This is a variety of information that will back-up and give further detail about what I'm going to tell you." Mulder took the file gingerly. He stared at the unremarkable cover with a burgeoning excitement that was tempered by a certain suspicion. His fingers burned with the desire to tear into the material and glut himself on the answers and proof Krycek claimed. He set the file carefully on the floor beside his chair and stared at Krycek with barely concealed impatience.

Krycek ignored him, seemingly lost in thought as he stared into the charred, petrified remains that littered the disused fireplace. So much depended on this conversation. He had to play it carefully, perfectly, or he risked losing Mulder. Finally he nodded to himself and turned in his chair to face Mulder squarely. "I suppose I should begin by confirming what you do know.

"Am I correct in assuming the events of Scully's last abduction cured you of your ridiculous skepticism involving the existence of aliens?"

Mulder visibly tensed. "What do you know about that? What was your involvement?" His violent surge of anger was palpable in the musty room.

Krycek shook his head wearily. "I wasn't involved in Scully's abduction." The qualification, *this time,* echoed silently between the two men. "And you're going to have to suspend your anger and distrust if we're going to get through this. Mulder, you have to accept that I'm on your side - Hell, *I* procured the vaccine that saved Scully's life. Your British friend was able to give it to you because of me."

"I don't have to accept *anything* you say, Krycek." Mulder retorted angrily, his body taut as he clutched the arms of the chair. "You've never done anything, given me anything, to convince me otherwise."

Krycek leaned across the desk. "Yeah, well, Mulder, that's why we're having this conversation. If you could just shut-up and let me continue...." he bit out.

"So, I can assume your renewed belief in extraterrestrial life forms?" Mulder nodded briefly in response. "Okay. I also assume you know that the Consortium was formed in the 40's after being contacted by these aliens." Another nod. "Well, they've known, more or less from the beginning, that the aliens intended to colonize. Though the date was set fairly recently, the Consortium was never in any doubt as to their intentions. They hoped that through their cooperation with the aliens, they would be able to ensure the relative safety of humanity."

"And to further this noble end, they employed a bunch of Nazi butchers and began reprehensible experimentation on an unknowing public." Mulder interrupted.

Krycek gave a frustrated sigh, and rose from behind the desk to pace impatiently. His shadowed features were thrown into sharp relief by the invasive sunlight. Mulder felt his breath catch and his hands released their iron grip on the chair to fist convulsively as he fought back a waxing of unwelcome desire. Mulder followed his movement carefully, riveted by the asymmetrical beauty of the other man.

Krycek stopped abruptly in front of Mulder. He leaned in perilously close, and the force of his words sent soft eddies of breath to warmly graze Mulder's face. "I'd rather not have to gag you to continue this discussion, so would you just keep your self-righteous interjections to yourself for now?" Mulder barely comprehended the words as his body swiftly hijacked his mind. The soft caress of Alex's breath sent tantalizing currents that electrified nerves. Mulder's universe shrank to the musky smell of Alex and the staccato pulse of the blood surging through his cock. Krycek immediately noticed the glaze of desire that fell to shutter burning hazel eyes. His hand snaked out to trail down the expanse of flesh framed by Mulder's open shirt and gently cupped the rising bulge encased in silk trousers. Mulder bit his lip to stifle a groan, but his traitorous body arched in wordless supplication. Krycek claimed his lips in a swift, searingly brutal kiss and then took an abrupt step backward.

Alex shook his head in apparent wonder. "God, you're a slut, Mulder. I'm ready to offer you answers and truths you've claimed to seek all these years, and you just want me to pull you out of the chair and nail you to the floor."

Mulder closed his eyes against the confusion and shame that overwhelmed him. "I'm sorry," Mulder muttered, wondering if he was apologizing to himself or Krycek. He cleared his throat and steadied his voice. "I want to have this talk. Go on."

Krycek stared intently at him, as if attempting to gauge the truth of his statement. He nodded and moved away to lean against the desk. "I'm not trying to apologize for them, or even justify their actions, I'm just trying to explain."

Mulder opened his mouth with an automatic retort, and then closed it resolutely. Krycek smiled briefly in acknowledgment of his restraint, then continued.

"Soon enough, small groups of alien colonists began to arrive. Expeditionary forces, if you will. You've encountered some of these - they appear human, and the Consortium was never sure of their true form. Then in the 50's, while investigating a downed UFO, they discovered their first example of black oil."

"The Piper Maru," Mulder provided.

"Yes. The aliens explained it as a debased form of alien life that was under their control. It could inhabit other biological entities for brief periods of time, and control their actions - a sort of worker drone that's a convenient tool for the early stages of colonization." He paused, his eyes darkening with memories of helplessness and terror. "The Consortium accepted this explanation, and diligently performed a cover-up. They recovered a few more alien crafts over the years with the same life forms, but were content to merely secure them in appropriate facilities. They didn't begin any active experimentation with this alien substance until after they discovered a similar entity in the Tunguska rock." Krycek took a deep breath and willed his voice to remain steady, blandly factual. "Exposure to the Piper Maru alien creates an immunity to the black cancer, a fact that was instrumental to the eventual discovery of a vaccine. They also discovered that repeated possession by the alien intelligence causes no lasting physical harm, though it does, in some cases, lead to permanent psychosis."

Despite Krycek's best efforts, his voice betrayed a slight tremor. He felt his hand shaking, mildly, but uncontrollably. He hoped that Mulder would be too caught up in the excitement of the revelations to notice his distress.

Mulder stared intently at Krycek, expressions of disbelief and awe skittered across his face. "You were possessed by that alien in Hong Kong," he said slowly. "The car crash, that flash of light - that was the alien." Krycek forced himself to meet Mulder's gaze without flinching. The strange combination of pity and curiosity that gleamed in the other man's eyes made him feel oddly shamed. He retreated into the haven of flippancy. "Yeah, the irony and patent absurdity of that trip has amused me for years. Fox Mulder, infamous for his fearless quest to discover and expose the truth of alien intelligence, sat on a plane for over twelve hours, inches away from a bonafide alien, and proceeded to alternately abuse and ignore it." Krycek gave a brief snort of laughter. "Jesus, you even fell asleep on its shoulder, snoring and drooling. As I recall, the alien was as amused as I was."

Mulder stared vacantly, processing the information. Krycek could imagine his brilliant mind reviewing and revising the events of the trip from Hong Kong, attempting to assimilate it with this new information. His gaze returned to Alex, and it was speculative and shrewd. "You were one of the test subjects, weren't you?"

Krycek shuddered, and silently cursed Mulder's intuition and intelligence. "Yeah, well, there were times I wished they'd just left me to rot in the silo," Krycek said quietly.

"The silo? In North Dakota? You were there." Mulder leaned forward eagerly in the chair. His eyes flickered with excitement and ruthless curiosity.

"They locked me in with the spaceship. The alien left my body and returned to the ship. I think they initially did intend to leave me there to die, until they decided to use me to begin studying it." Krycek's voice was flat and hollow. He realized he was rapidly losing control of the situation. "Look, Mulder, if I promise to eventually share with you all the gory details of alien possession and the unique experience of being a Consortium lab rat, can we just leave this subject alone for now?"

"It really bothers you to talk about it," Mulder observed with clinical detachment.

"Yes, damn it. Of course it does." Krycek shouted. He had to stop shaking. He couldn't afford to fall apart, not in front of this man. He turned his back on Mulder and stalked across the room to stare out the window. Mulder leaned back in the chair and felt an uncomfortable twinge of remorse. He tried to summon the familiar contempt and hate that would justify pushing Alex further, but they failed to materialize. Krycek was transforming before his eyes - his vulnerability and obvious pain shattered Mulder's perceptions of him. This new insight was dizzying; Mulder felt like he was looking into a surreal kaleidoscope: the falling patterns beguiled him. If only he looked closely enough he'd see pieces of a broken persona littered about, with Krycek standing above them in a different whole. Mulder rubbed his face wearily. He was surprised by his newborn hunger to *know* this man. Know which incarnation was real and true. He wanted to comprehend Alex's motivations, discover what had led him to make the decisions and choices he'd made.

Krycek heard the soft rustle of fabric, and then Mulder was kneading the back of his neck in a soothing rhythm. He leaned in and placed a careful kiss below Alex's ear. "It's okay," he murmured. "I'm sorry." Krycek's eyes began to blink furiously as he attempted to ward off tears. He did *not* cry. Mulder's arms reached around to embrace him tightly and he began to nuzzle and kiss the tense neck. With a strangled sob, Krycek turned into Mulder's embrace and buried his face in the crook of his neck as his body shook with silent tears. Mulder's hands were busy stroking and gentling him while he whispered soft words of comfort and reassurance. At long last, Alex's shaking subsided and he lifted his tear stained face to stare at Mulder. Raising his hands, Mulder carefully wiped away the lingering tears, and gently kissed him. Krycek responded with blind hunger, immediately deepening the kiss as he pressed his body closer with desperate abandon. Mulder absorbed his passion and returned it with determined intensity. He turned them both, and pushed Alex backwards until they reached the desk. Without breaking the kiss, Alex pushed the laptop to the side and sat on the desk, hooking his legs around Mulder to draw him closer. Mulder moaned into Alex's mouth and reached down to begin tugging off his t-shirt. He broke the kiss to lift the shirt over Alex's head while his one handed lover unfastened his pants with remarkable speed. Mulder's slacks fell to pool around his feet. He swiftly stepped out of them and began working to rid Krycek of his jeans.

"What do you want?" Mulder asked.

Krycek pulled him in for another kiss, then whispered hoarsely, "Fuck me. Make me forget."

"The lube's upstairs." Mulder murmured and kissed him again.

"Fuck it. I need you *now,*" Krycek replied and pushed him away to turn and bend over the desk. Mulder groaned and began to knead the tautly muscled back that lay before him. Bending to drape himself over Alex, Mulder kissed the back of his neck, smiling at the resulting sigh. His mouth moved to suckle and bite a careful path along the topography of Alex's spine. When Mulder's mouth reached the gentle swell of buttocks, Alex began to moan and writhe in earnest against the lacquered surface of the desk.

Mulder knelt behind the him, and used his hands to carefully spread open Alex's ass, revealing the puckered opening of his anus. He began to carefully nibble and taste him, teasing Alex into quivering spasms of need. His moans reached a fevered crescendo and echoed throughout the study as Mulder thrust his tongue into the tight opening. Mulder continued to invade Krycek's body with his tongue, mimicking the actions his cock ached for until Krycek was raving; need expressed in a meaningless welter of sound. Standing, Mulder carefully spread the generous amount of pre-cum that glazed the head of his cock and slowly pushed into the hot vise of Krycek's flesh. He set a languid, steady pace, reaching one hand under Alex's body to gently squeeze his erection. Krycek scrambled for leverage, trying to increase the tempo of Mulder's thrusts. "Damn it," he growled, "*harder.*" Mulder bent to bite his shoulder and began thrusting wantonly. His reached around to furiously milk Alex's straining cock until it erupted across the surface of the desk. Pulling his hand from under the heaving body, Mulder held tight to Alex's hips and pounded relentlessly. His orgasm began at the base of his skull and traveled to his cock with cataclysmic force. He rested his head against Krycek's back and gave a hoarse shout as the final spurts of his semen were wrenched from his soul.

Mulder collapsed heavily on top of Alex's body, transported and dizzy. Krycek lay still beneath him for long minutes until he wheezed apologetically, "Can't breathe." Mulder stood up and discovered his shaky limbs couldn't hold him. He sank to the floor and slumped against the wall. Krycek rose and moved to join him, cradling himself between Mulder's legs, his head resting on Mulder's shoulder. Mulder brought his arms around to hold him and closed his eyes, possessively savoring the rare moment of peace and contentment. He thought Alex had fallen asleep until he sniffed loudly. "We'll have to shower eventually - we're getting pretty ripe."

Mulder laughed softly and agreed, but tightened his hold and made no effort to move. "Let's just stay like this for awhile," he murmured. Krycek turned his head and demonstrated his agreement by nuzzling the sweat-salted neck.

Mulder dozed lightly until his legs began to cramp from Alex's weight. With reluctance, he nudged the sleeping man. "Krycek, you've got to move - my legs are falling asleep."

Sleep-softened green eyes opened to blink blearily. "I'm sorry," he whispered and his husky voice sent a shiver of lust coursing down Mulder's spine.

Krycek unfolded himself and moved away from Mulder. Kneeling on the floor, he reached for his t-shirt.

"Maybe we should take that shower," Mulder suggested.

Alex pulled the shirt over his head and reached for his jeans. "No, you go shower. I'll see what I can find for lunch."

Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but something in Krycek's eyes stopped him. He shrugged and tried to ignore his disappointment. He grabbed his clothes and left the room, walking up the stairs to the bathroom.

Alex watched him leave the room, and wanted nothing more than to follow him. But he couldn't indulge himself - he needed to regai n some measure of control and could only do that if he enforced some distance between himself and Mulder. Alex had been aware of his feelings for Mulder for some time now - in his line of work "know thyself" wasn't just another tired quotation. The ancient Greeks were all dead, but Alex was still alive. What he hadn't expected, hadn't been prepared for, was Mulder's reaction. Alex had suspected for years now that Mulder might be attracted to him. Lust he had expected; the tenderness and concern Mulder had just shown him left him feeling oddly unbalanced and out of control.

For now, at least, he had to ignore the cautious joy he felt. Mulder still had yet to hear the majority of what Alex needed to tell him. He couldn't be sure that Mulder would agree to work with him and letting Mulder know how he felt would be too risky. Mulder already had far too many weapons in his arsenal, Alex certainly wasn't going to hand him another. With a self-deprecating laugh, he pulled on his jeans and headed for the kitchen.

*************************

As Mulder stood under the meager spray of water the ancient plumbing grudgingly provided, he willed his mind to remain a careful blank. Too many conflicting emotions and thoughts warred within him, and he didn't have the time to sort them all out. He'd just have to worry about it later. *The time-honored Scarlett O'Hara method of dealing with emotional stress,* he thought with a snort, and began the laborious process of rinsing out shampoo with virtually no water pressure.

**************************

Rummaging through the cabinets, Alex found some cans of soup from his last stay. Cream of broccoli or beef barley. His lack of milk made the choice easy; his lack of an arm made opening the can difficult. Hadn't he bought an electric can opener last time he was here? The cabinet over the antique refrigerator yielded that prize, and soon Krycek was heating soup. He yawned widely and decided more coffee was in order as well.

As he poured the boiling water to make the caffeinated sludge, he heard the water turn off upstairs. Only a few more minutes until Mulder reappeared. He took a drink of coffee and mentally braced himself. Convincing Mulder seemed even more important after what had just happened in the study. God, he hoped he didn't fuck this up.

"Smells good," Mulder commented as he walked into the kitchen.

"The best Campbell's has to offer. There's water for coffee if you want some."

Mulder murmured his thanks, made himself a cup and went to sit at the table. An awkward silence stretched between the two men as Alex finished heating the soup. He poured the soup into two chipped bowls and carried Mulder's over to him. He grabbed the remaining bagels from the fridge and returned to the table with his soup.

The silence continued as they ate their soup. Mulder caught himself casting surreptitious glances across the table. Krycek was seemingly absorbed with the process of eating. He alternated bites of bagel and spoonfuls of soup with a methodical precision. This mundane act was inexplicably fascinating. His memory unearthed a line from Baudelaire to echo mockingly through his mind: "I have received a singular warning, I have felt the wind of the wing of madness pass over me."

Finally, Alex set his spoon down and stared intently at him. "So," he began, and his voice trailed off.

"So...." Mulder heard himself parroting absurdly. Their gazes locked and they both laughed nervously.

"There's a lot we still need to talk about." Krycek began again.

"Yeah." Mulder's reply was cautious.

"So, where were we?"

Mulder smiled lasciviously. "Depends on what you're referring to...."

Alex threw him a stern glance, but a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "The aliens, Mulder," he said with mock severity. Mulder shrugged and settled back in his chair.

Alex took a deep breath and prepared himself for lecture mode. "Until recent years, the Consortium had never been overly concerned about categorizing the various types of alien life; they chose to focus instead on their own projects. For the most part, they simply blindly accepted the information and resources the aliens gave them for hybridization projects. They also, of course, exploited their knowledge of alien technology to further technological advancement. Cataloguing and experimenting on humans, though, has always been the Consortium's primary project."

"Why?" Mulder's easy humor fled immediately and his question was flavored with a bitter rancor.

Krycek gave him a calculating glance, knowing he was thinking of both his sister and Scully. "You know a lot of that already. The cataloguing, the abductions were all part of the terms of their cooperation. Ostensibly, it would help the eventual invasion, allow the aliens to subdue and control the population with minimal violence and bloodshed. The Consortium participated fully in the alien-human hybridization experiments, they had a vision of a sort of brave new world - a superior race of hybrids ruled by the Consortium and their alien counterparts. One of the Consortium's biggest failings was their belief in their own infallibility. They'd become so powerful that they simply trusted that they'd always be able to remain so.

"Everything went to hell last spring. There have been problems brewing for awhile now - the aliens have been concerned that some of the original colonists had gone too 'native.' They'd begun to deviate from their original orders, and an assassin was sent to take care of them. The Consortium provided as much help as they could. Especially once a troublesome FBI agent became involved." Krycek raised his coffee cup in a mock salute. "The aliens, as well as the Consortium, underestimated the scope of the problem, however. There was far more dissent amongst the colonists than the aliens knew, and furthermore, a rebellion was brewing among the aliens back home, and supported by the alien colonists here."

"The dissent amongst the colonists was the first thing that caused the Consortium to worry. They finally began to suspect that the colonists might be fighting their superiors because they knew something about their plans that the Consortium didn't. The Consortium started looking more closely at the two types of black oil, and began working on a vaccine as a sort of insurance.

"Their worst fears came true last summer when yet a third type of the black oil was discovered in Texas." Krycek stood up and filled the kettle with more water.

"That type of alien uses humans as hosts. It inhabits them and uses them as a breeding ground." Mulder stated.

"Yeah, like a bad plot straight out of one those awful sci-fi movies you're so fond of," Krycek smiled wryly.

"So, they might never have intended to merely colonize - the Consortium fears they're going to kill of the indigenous population and repopulate the world in their own image."

Krycek nodded. "You do know, though, that the aliens *are* the original indigenous population."

"Yeah, I've suspected as much."

"I don't think the aliens tend to destroy the entire population - they've worked too hard studying humanity and developing hybrids - I think they are somewhat invested in preserving humanity, or at least some new version of it. I do think, though, that the majority of the population is at risk. That's why I sent you all the smallpox data - I suspect that the genetic markers they've used to encode the vaccination scars somehow differentiate between who will be saved and those who will be sacrificed. I'd like to get a clearer picture of who they deem valuable, and what criteria they use to make that distinction.

 "I know a lot, but I'm still missing crucial pieces. The Consortium has been fractured into factions over recent years. Knowledge is no longer shared freely - maybe it never really was, but this level of uncooperation is certainly unprecedented. I need to know more, form a more complete picture in order to proceed. That's where you come in. I need you back on the X-files so that you'll have resources and investigative opportunity."

Mulder's expression was non-committal. Krycek hadn't really told him anything he hadn't figured out for himself. He had confirmed some of his suspicions and theories, and given him some new information, but Mulder sensed there was still a lot Krycek was keeping to himself. He waited patiently for Alex to continue.

"I've been making contact with some of the colonists who are involved in the rebellion, and I hope to eventually speak with their leaders. The Consortium is in trouble right now. Your rescue of Scully has made their position very tenuous. The aliens now know that a successful vaccine for the black oil exists and they aren't exactly pleased. Most of the dissension in the Consortium right now concerns their cooperation with the aliens. There's a significant faction that feels it's time to resist. They assassinated my patron last summer because he was a vocal proponent for resistance. The example they made of him quelled such opposition for awhile - but that won't last much longer, too much is at stake."

"So, you plan to take advantage of the Consortium's fractured state to take it down. Then you'll ally yourself with various rebellious elements and defeat the aliens once and for all? Alex Krycek, savior of the universe?"

Alex graced him with another wry smile. "Something like that, yeah."

"How exactly do you plan destroy the Consortium?"

"Oh, the usual," Alex said blandly. "Blackmail, extortion, coercion, exposure -my patron left me with all sorts of useful information that will be helpful." *And, of course, the always reliable murder and mayhem,* he silently added. Alex wanted to give Mulder as much truth as he could, but there were some things he simply wasn't ready to hear.

"Well, exposure sounds good. But I suppose it would be too much to hope that you might consider legal recourse and justice for these men."

Krycek let out an impatient sigh. "I've told you before, Mulder, these men won't answer to traditional justice. They have too much power, too much protection. We have to use their own methods against them."

"So, we have to become the enemy to destroy the enemy?" Mulder spat, sparks of anger flaring in his eyes.

Krycek shoved his chair backwards and rose to pace angrily. "Yes, damnit. You can't afford to maintain your high moral ground. This. Is. War. Everything is at stake here, Mulder, and if you can't sacrifice your cherished principles, you've already lost." He stopped abruptly behind his chair and grabbed it with a white-knuckled grip. Alex had to control his anger, he couldn't let this situation escalate into a confrontation.

Mulder stared at him with narrowed eyes. "You're not telling me everything, Krycek. What exactly are you hoping to get out of this?"

Krycek gave a harsh bark of laughter. "I'm trying to save the world."

Shaking his head, Mulder gave him another calculating look. "Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe. Maybe you suddenly see yourself as some sort of valiant savior, but to what end? I know you. What are you planning to get out of this? Power? Control?"

"Mulder, you do *not* know me," Alex bit out. "I'm telling you the truth. Have you heard anything I've said? The future is in chaos, this is a lot larger than personal ambition."

"The Consortium, Krycek," Mulder said softly. "Do you really intend to destroy it? Or do you just want to take it over?"

Krycek closed his eyes briefly, and decided to gamble. "Yes, Mulder, I do plan to take control of the Consortium. But not for the reasons you're assuming. The power base, the resources the Consortium have are crucial. Destroying it would only help the aliens, and hasten their plans. I'm offering you an equal partnership in this. Think about it. You *have* to see that I'm right."

"Fuck you. I don't see that you're right. You know, Cancerman offered me a similar deal once. I didn't accept it from him, and I'm certainly not going to accept it now that a delusional, power-mad asshole is offering." Mulder's voice rose and cracked on an angry howl, and he stood and kicked his chair backwards, sending it clattering across the floor.

"Mulder, you're not listening to me," Krycek began, forcing his voice to stay calm. "You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment."

"*Shut up* Alex," Mulder shouted and stalked across the room to Alex with clenched fists.

"Fine, Mulder, hit me if that's what you need to do, but you *have* to listen to me."

Mulder stared at him for a long moment: fury, betrayal and repugnance painted his expression in broad, ugly strokes. With an anguished cry, Mulder raised his fist and connected solidly with Alex's jaw. Alex took the blow calmly and stepped back, wincing as he gingerly rubbed his face. "Feel better now, Mulder?"

Mulder shook his arm and stared at him with blind fury. "Fuck you," he said again, turned and fled the kitchen. He got as far as the front door before he became aware of his bare feet and half-undressed state. With a mangled curse, he turned again and headed for the stairs. Shaking with fury, he entered the bedroom and swiftly pulled on his shoes and suit jacket. Once dressed, he stood and stared at the rumpled bed. Self-disgust and hatred flared to overwhelm his anger. The raw smell of sweat and spent passion assaulted his senses and a wave of sharp bile rose to burn his throat. Abruptly, he turned and left the room. Heading down the stairs he found Krycek waiting for him in the hallway. Mulder approached him silently, shoved him hard against the wall and walked out the front door. Standing on the front steps he blinked in the afternoon sun, and checked his coat for his wallet. He grabbed it with an intense feeling of relief and walked down the street to find a cab.

After Mulder slammed the door behind him, Alex slumped against the wall and sank slowly to the floor. Resting his head in his hand, he felt himself shaking. "Shit...shit...shit" he whispered to himself.

******************

Mulder walked into the apartment and immediately headed for his couch. He sat stiffly and gazed slowly around his apartment. The last purple rays of sunset bled in through the window, painting everything in a surreal glow. The light on his answering machine blinked steadily and his fish were undoubtedly hungry. So much had changed for him since he'd last been here, but it was his apartment that seemed new, strange. Mulder stood up and walked over to the fish tank, and dropped a generous pinch of flakes to float on top of the algae-infested water. He turned and walked slowly around his apartment, absently picking things up and setting them back down. Trailing his hand along the cluttered surface of his desk, he sought to conjure some sense of familiarity. *Emotional shock,* his helpful brain supplied. Mulder ignored the voice in his head, having neither the energy nor the inclination to think about what had happened to him over the last day. *Had it only been a day?* With a mental shrug, Mulder wandered into his bedroom. He might as well change his clothes and get his promised visit to Scully's out of the way.

******************

Mulder stood nervously in front of Scully's door. She was likely to kill him once he told her he'd gone off to meet his new informant alone and wound up getting kidnapped by Krycek. He'd debated not telling her at all, but was too tired and strung out to think of a believable cover story, and besides which, Scully always discovered the truth eventually. In some ways, she was as spooky as he was. Finally, he accepted the inevitable, and rose his hand to knock at her door.

Scully answered immediately, and ushered him in like a worried mother hen. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?" she demanded, but her troubled smile took the bite out of her words.

"Well, our mysterious informant finally asked to meet me last night," he admitted, preparing himself for her reaction.

"And I suppose it didn't occur to you to call and tell me, maybe bring me along?" Her voice was heavy with resignation. Mulder smiled sheepishly, knowing that at this point in their relationship her question was rhetorical. She frowned at him and sighed. "Well, come on in and get comfortable. You can tell me all about it." Scully turned and walked toward the couch. "At least he's in one piece this time," she muttered to herself.

Mulder hung up his coat by the door and paused to take in his surroundings. Scully had a fire going in her living room, her apartment was, as always, softly lit, and her comfortable furniture beckoned him. His apartment had seemed alien and unfamiliar, but Scully's seemed like home.

Scully had curled up in the chair nearest the fire and was waiting expectantly. Mulder flopped down on her obscenely comfortable couch, and began relating the previous night's events. He chose his words with care, and hoped she wouldn't suspect that he was omitting so many details and events. Scully remained quiet through his narrative, but her face became increasingly incredulous as he outlined Krycek's plans. Mulder finally finished and waited for her reaction.

Scully shook her head and raised her eyebrow in disbelief. "*Krycek*

wants to take over the Consortium and save the world?" Her voice shook with barely contained laughter.

"Yeah, and with me as his left hand man." Mulder shook his head. "If nothing else, it makes me feel better about my own humble delusions."

Scully snorted delicately. "And he'll give us back the X-files as long as you agree to follow his plans?"

"Something like that. Though I left before he could reveal that master plan."

"You left? He just let you go?" Scully asked incredulously.

Mulder winced. "Well, he had a gun on me initially, but after awhile..... I probably could have left anytime," his voice trailed off and he prayed fervently that Scully would just drop the subject.

"But you stayed." Scully's didn't sound judgmental, just confused.

"Well, initially I was drugged and still a little drunk. And then he appealed to my curiosity - you know me, that's far more compelling incentive than a mere gun." He attempted a casual shrug, willing her to accept this explanation. "I wanted to at least hear what he had to say."

"Oh, Mulder," she sighed and gazed at him contemplatively. Mulder suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. Coming here tonight had been a colossal mistake -Scully knew him far too well, and undoubtedly sensed that he wasn't telling her the entire truth. He should have just called her with an excuse and given himself the night to regroup, pull himself together. He still felt too confused, too open and vulnerable.

"Are you okay?" she asked with soft concern. "I don't think you're telling me everything. Did Krycek do anything to you?"

Mulder jumped off the couch, feeling like a caged animal. He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. "No, Scully, he didn't do anything." He closed his eyes against the guilt he felt from lying to his best friend. Opening his eyes, Mulder forced himself to meet her gaze. "I'm not okay, though. I'm exhausted and I'm sick of being played for a fool. I just need to go home and get some sleep." He turned and headed for the door.

Scully rose gracefully from her chair and followed him. After he shrugged on his coat, she approached him, reaching out her arms to hold him close. With a weary sigh, Mulder accepted her embrace, lowering his head to rest atop her head. As he inhaled her soft scent and relaxed into her comforting touch, he was overwhelmed by despair, and the threat of tears pricked his eyes. Why Krycek? Why not Scully? She represented everything that was good, true and faithful in his life. Why couldn't it have been Scully, why did he have to fall in love with Alex? His last thought made him jerk away with barely concealed horror. Scully stepped back from him, her forehead wrinkled with worry and concern. "Mulder, what's wrong? You know you can tell me," she pleaded.

"It's nothing, Scully, really. But I have...I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Mulder knew he was a stammering wreck, knew how much he was worrying Scully, but he had to leave, had to get out before he broke down and confessed the whole sordid nightmare. He turned and fled her apartment, almostrunning in his haste to get away from the building. Once he reached his car, he slid into the driver's seat and swiftly lost all control. Resting his head on the steering wheel, his body shook uncontrollably. In love with Alex Krycek? What the hell was he going to do?

To be continued........

 

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Phoenix VII: Interim  
By Lucy Snowe  
E-mail address:   
Rating: NC-17  
Spoilers: Lots, everything through the fifth season.   
Content Warning: explicit portrayal of self abuse!   
Summary: Alex begins to unveil his plans.  
Disclaimers: The characters who inhabit the X-Files universe certainly aren't mine. No infringement intended, no money made. Please don't sue unless you wish to assume responsibility for my student loans.  
Author's Notes: Okay, the recent conspiracy arcs have sent this series spinning wildly into AU territory, but that's not really evident yet in this story. I'll be more specific about where the timeline diverges once I've decided just what I'm going to use. This installment definitely carries an NC-17 rating, so stop reading if you're not into that sort of thing. Many thanks to Karen for her always superb beta skills, and general loveliness as a human being. Thanks also to the brilliant m. butterfly who provided invaluable help and advice with the sex scene - you're a doll! Continued thanks to all who have sent such kind and encouraging feedback. Feedback continues to be craved desperately, and will be received with immense gratitude and pleasure.  
RL, vacations and other assorted nonsense have kept me away from this for ages - but Phoenix VIII is in the works, and I should be posting on a regular schedule again. For anyone who'd like to see the previous installments, the lovely and wonderful ladies at TER/MA have given me a home!!! <Yippee!! Lucy dances the happy dance> You can check it out at: [website address given by author no longer valid -- archivist]

* * *

Phoenix VII: Interim  
By Lucy Snowe

Mulder opened his eyes and stared blearily at the clock. 5:17 in the morning, and a mere fifteen minutes since he'd last looked. He rubbed his face with weary resignation. Sitting up on the couch, he hung his head and stared morosely at his toes. He'd given up on the possibility of sleep hours ago, he might as well get up. Walking around his apartment, Mulder cautiously stretched his aching muscles and contemplated going for a run. As much as he craved the endorphin-fueled oblivion that would grant him a brief respite from his tortured thoughts, he knew he was far too tired to summon the energy. Maybe he'd feel differently after a shower and coffee. With this thought, he headed into the kitchen and started the coffee, then headed to the bathroom.

The pounding heat of the water felt blissful against his tortured body and did a great deal to ease the kinks and aches that had settled there during the long night. As he rinsed shampoo from his hair, Mulder realized he was feeling almost human again. Still too tired for the run, though, he realized with vague disappointment. Throwing on a robe, he padded to the doorway to retrieve his paper, then followed the seductive aroma of coffee into the kitchen. He poured a cup of coffee, then sat down at his seldom used kitchen table and proceeded to read the Post from cover to cover. He hadn't read a newspaper in this way in years: Mulder rarely followed current events (other than the tabloid press) and more often than not, his newspaper merely functioned as a convenient receptacle for messages left by various informants. He finished the last of the coffee feeling the manic surge of caffeinated awareness and a sinking dread regarding the coming day. Maybe he'd be able to distract Scully from the questions she was sure to have by regaling her with his now comprehensive knowledge of world events. He snorted and reluctantly rose to get ready for work. A.D. Kersh had requested a meeting with them first thing this morning, and he supposed he should be on time.

******************

Sitting in Kersh's office, Mulder paid scant attention as the man droned on about their exciting new assignment: background checks for prospective federal employees. He supposed he should at least be glad that he and Scully no longer had to search for possible terrorists in settings that always made him feel as if he'd stepped into a surreal version of American Gothic. 

Finally, Kersh indicated the meeting was over, handing Mulder and Scully thick folders of information. Mulder felt a sharp pang as he suddenly remembered he'd left a similar looking folder behind when he'd fled Krycek's. He cursed himself inwardly, damning himself for having let his emotions cloud his judgment yet again.

As he followed Scully out the door, Mulder was stopped by Kersh's rough bark. "Agent Mulder, a word with you please."

Scully shot him a quick look of sympathy before he turned to approach his boss. "You look like hell, Agent - exhausted, worried and run down." 

Mulder graced him with a snide grin. "Gee, sir, I didn't know you cared."

"I don't care, Agent Mulder. I simply wanted to take this opportunity to stress that it would be foolish in the extreme if you were to indulge in any," the A.D. paused to pin him with a weighty glare, "....extracurricular activities. The X-files are no longer yours and it's in your best interests, as well as Agent Scully's, that you keep that fact firmly in mind."

"Are you threatening me, sir?" Mulder's voice was soft, but dripped with menace.

Kersh gave him a calculating look. "No, Agent Mulder. I'm merely advising and warning you. That will be all."

Mulder spun angrily and stalked out of the office. As he walked out into the main corridor, he felt a warm hand on his arm. He looked down into Scully's concerned gaze. "Are you okay, Mulder? What did Kersh have to say?"

"A warning , though it was more in the lines of a veiled threat. He's concerned that I might still be looking into the X-files on an extracurricular basis." Mulder sighed his frustration.

"Is he guessing, or do you think he knows?"

"I don't think he knows. But you have to admit that as an educated guess it's a pretty damn good one."

"What are you going to do, Mulder?"

"Head back to the office and glue the phone to my ear."

Scully let out a frustrated sigh at his flippant attitude. "You know that's not what I meant."

"I'm not sure. And I don't want to talk about it right now." Mulder cringed inwardly at his petulant tone.

"You don't think you can still trust Krycek's information, do you?"

Rather than respond, Mulder turned and walked swiftly toward the elevator. "I don't know. I just don't know," he muttered and gave the call button a vicious stab.

*****************

Mulder hung up his phone at the completion of yet another inane phone conversation. He rubbed his eyes and looked blearily at Scully. She finished her call a few minutes later, and raised an eyebrow at Mulder's agitated stare. 

"I can't take anymore of this today, Scully. I've got to leave - will you cover for me?"

"Everything all right?" Scully asked mildly, not really expecting an honest response.

Mulder nodded shortly and she sighed. "Go on, Mulder. I don't even need to cover for you, really. You've probably got more accumulated personal days than anyone else in the Bureau. Maybe you should take a couple days off."

Mulder nodded again and rose while shrugging on his jacket. "I might do that. I'll call Kersh's assistant later and arrange it."

"Take care, Mulder" Scully said as he turned to leave. "And, call me if you need anything, okay?"

Mulder graced her with a half-hearted smile. "I will, Scully. Thanks."

She smiled and with a resigned sigh, picked up the phone to make another call.

*******************

Mulder parked his car across the street from his building and got out of his car. He turned in time to see a dark car pulling away from the curb. He swiftly glanced at the driver's profile and took off running. The car immediately picked up speed and after a block, disappeared in the distance. Mulder leaned against a parked car and caught his breath. He'd just missed Krycek. If he'd only gotten back a few minutes earlier he could have seen him, talked to him. Acute disappointment triggered anger and hatred for both himself and Krycek. His feelings for Alex surely proved he was finally certifiable. And why did he always find himself running after cars like a dog incapable of realizing the chase is futile?

Mulder turned to walk back to his complex, wondering what treat Alex had left for him.

*******************

As soon as Mulder disappeared from his rearview mirror, Alex picked up his cellphone and dialed. A few moments later his call was answered by a cautious hello. "Kurt, it's Krycek," he said shortly. "Can you talk?"

"Yeah. What do you need?"

"I need you to find someone for me, who's probably being held at one of the facilities. Cassandra Spender."

*******************

Walking into his apartment, Mulder made an immediate scan of his apartment. His eyes alighted immediately on the unprepossessing folder lying on his couch. So Alex hadn't given up on him. Getting rid of his coat and tie, he settled on his couch and began poring over the information.

The papers were fascinating, albeit frequently incomprehensible. If he ever needed proof of direct government involvement in the conspiracy, the ridiculous acronyms and hackneyed code names surely offered sufficient proof. He surprised himself with a sudden yawn. The truth finally, literally, at his fingertips and he found himself oddly disconnected and uninvolved. Another yawn split his face and with a sigh, Mulder leaned back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. After a few moments, his breath evened out into a steady rhythm, his body went slack and papers fluttered gently to the floor.

*******************

....Fox whimpers in fear and pain, choking on the pleas and desperate entreaties that fight to work past the lump in his throat. Menacing and implacable, his father towers over him flailing him with taunting words and a worn leather belt. "My fault my fault myfaultmyfaultmyfault." The eerie chant builds within him, eclipsing the furious stream of harsh curses and biting blows. His world shifts, invaded by a razored incandescence that paralyzes him. Sobs break free and shatter him and he screams a name until his throat is raw and numb. Darkness. Sudden warmth and cloying softness. A faint whiff of Chantilly flavors hollow reassurances and awkward endearments. Fox stares blankly until the darkness coalesces into the worn features of his mother's face. Her caresses are tender but vacuous, hollow eyes make him tremble and whimper. Soft, plump hands soothe his tear-raw face in a parody of comfort and Fox lets the blackness take him. Gentle fingers bring him back and Mulder is surprised by the melting sensation of safety. He burrows his face in a callused palm and inhales a spicy musk that chases away lingering perfume. The darkness is suddenly warm and inviting, but he struggles to lift heavy lids. Flashing green eyes consume his vision and he briefly relaxes into their warmth and comfort before shattering anew as hoarse screams rip from his throat..........

*******************

He awoke in terror, a strangled scream still echoing in his head. Bolting upright, Mulder forced himself to catalogue the familiar sights of his apartment until his ragged breathing calmed. Mulder ran a weary hand over the prickled sharpness of his cheek and fought a sudden wave of nausea. "Damn him," he cursed bitterly and gave the scattered papers a vicious kick. Stalking to the kitchen, Mulder opened a bottle of whiskey and took two swift draughts. An image of his father flashed in his mind and he slammed the bottle down. He fled to the shower hoping to wash away the sweat-soaked vestiges of his nightmare.

*******************

Mulder's worn sweat pants clung to his still-damp skin as he lay down on the couch. He relaxed into the sensation of buttery leather against his back and soft cotton against his legs. Grabbing the remote, he began absently flipping through the channels. He considered popping in something from his tape collection - but he found them oddly flat and uninteresting these days. As much as he hated it, memories of Krycek were all that could arouse him these days. Mulder had tried valiantly to summon favorite fantasies, past experiences, but they always bled into a visions of his few encounters with Alex: demonic green eyes gleaming from a face made beatific by passion; the wet, velvety haven of Krycek's mouth as his throat muscles massaged Mulder's cock; the overpowering sensation of being filled so completely.

Mulder groaned and pushed his sweat pants down his legs before kicking them off. He began lazily caressing his chest and thighs, watching with detached fascination as his cock slowly filled and rose to jut from its nest of hair. His fingers found his nipples and he began to pull and twist them, raptly watching the answering twitches and jerks of his cock. Closing his eyes, Mulder indulged in the memory of Alex's wicked mouth and fingers torturing and soothing the hardened nubs of flesh. The fervent rush of desire that was rapidly overtaking him made it easy for him to pretend that it was Alex's hands on his body, Alex's harsh breath echoing in his ears. 

"Alex, please, touch my cock." Mulder pleaded, hardly aware he was talking aloud. He could imagine the wicked smile such a plea would inspire. "Patience," the imagined voice whispered. Mulder trailed his fingers down his body. They tangled briefly in his chest hair, carding and pulling the wiry strands. Hands traveled further downward, and one finger lingered to explore the concavity of his navel while the other hand stroked his prominent hip bone. He arched his pelvis and groaned as fingers then moved down to tease his cock with an impossibly light touch. Mulder's hands continued their inexorable downward path, pausing briefly to cradle and torment his balls before stroking and kneading the silky skin of his perineum. Moaning, Mulder opened his eyes and searched his cluttered coffee table for the tube of slick. He squeezed out a generous dollop and then braced his legs on the end of the couch to give his fingers better access. As he circled his anus with a lubricated finger, teasing himself with the promise of penetration, his other hand returned to torture his nipples anew. They were still inflamed and swollen from his earlier ministrations, and soft, glancing touches were enough to make him shudder with unspeakable need. His neglected cock wept freely, and he had to grit his teeth against the overwhelming desire to stroke himself into oblivion.

Mulder worked one finger into his ass and immediately twisted it to stroke his prostate. He let out a harsh, keening cry and suddenly one finger wasn't enough. He worked in two more, then another until only his thumb remained outside to press his perineum as he relentlessly fucked himself. His other hand left his nipples and Mulder sucked them into his mouth, desperately wishing it was Alex's cock in his mouth, in his ass. His balls drew up tight against his body and Mulder looked down at his purpled cock which was dripping with a steady stream of precum. With an anguished shout he began fucking himself faster as his saliva-wet hand grabbed his cock and began pumping it with a lunatic determination. Within moments he was convulsing. Semen burst from his cock to cover his chest and his anus tightened almost painfully around his fingers. 

Carefully removing his fingers, Mulder stretched out on his couch and let sated lethargy claim him. He brokenly whispered a name and drifted into unconsciousness.

*****************

Alex was dozing lightly when the shrill sound of a phone woke him. Before he could manage a greeting, a tense voice began rattling off an address. Grabbing a pen, he quickly wrote it down.

There was a long pause and then the voice at the other end began again. "I hope you know what you're doing, Krycek. This facility is probably their most highly secured."

"Yeah, I know. I've been there before." Alex said as he rubbed his face wearily.

"Good, because I was going to refuse if you asked for a layout or any other information. We can't afford to be connected with this."

"I know. I appreciate it." His reply was answered by a dial tone. Krycek got up and began pacing across the rented room. Events were escalating out of control; time becoming a precious commodity. He'd have to act quickly or risk losing everything.

......To be continued.


End file.
